Sage ➸ Carl Grimes

8 ➸ hands

Sage

"Anything?" Carl's echoing voice called from the upstairs level. His voice cracked and sounded strained, and he took my mangled moment of hesitance as a hopeless no. I frowned.

I looked down at my hands, and admired how empty they were.

We were searching through a large, three-story home, in desperate hopes to find a meal for tonight. We had raided homes upon homes in this abandoned neighborhood, but all were a clean slate besides a few worthless shirts and expired perishables.

I was in the mid-level kitchen, and my hands gripped either side of the metal sink. A small window was carved right before it, and I took a look through it.

Past the light fabric drapes to the kitchen window and a few bloody smudges, I saw a gloomy day. The snow and asphalt was only beginning to melt at our feet. I sucked in a sad breath, but my oxygen released as a vapor of lifeless clouds into the air.

"God damn it!" I heard Carl scream from the upstairs bedroom, and quickly after was a loud shove and movement.

My panic had arisen, and I widened my eyes and turned around. I then began bolting through the kitchen at my quickest speed. Although the bandages on my arms and the aching hollowness in my body made my trip to Carl's troubles more of an obstacle.

My body ached as I kicked around a few zombie corpses with bullets already through their heads. I had met the spiral staircase, and I didn't hesitate to count the steps leading me to the boy.

In the process, I grabbed my knife out from my belt and had it steadied.

I heard another shove, and more things fell and crashed from the bedroom.

"Carl? Carl!" I called his name helplessly, tears bundling at the corner of my salty eyes. I was out of breath by the time I had scurried down the narrow hallway, grabbing the doorknob and busting through the bedroom.

"Carl! Carl..." I faded out.

I stumbled into the bedroom, skidding my heels on the wood floors to put myself into an abrupt halt. My breaths and wounds and echoing pain could not keep up with myself and my needs to save this boy. I swallowed.

The bedroom was large, but seemed to have gotten smaller. A bookshelf was knocked over and the novels were scattering at our feet. Carl's hat was on the ground, and he grabbed his hair.

"Nothing! Sage, there's absolutely nothing in this goddamn shithole!" Carl shouted, his face a beating red. His skin was hot and sticky with his everlasting frustration on the living dead, and I watched it unravel.

"Carl, you know we're..." I tried.

"Don't bullshit me. You know we have nothing for ourselves. Nothing to fend off of, nothing to eat, nothing," Carl said viciously, pointing to his chest. He then raised his finger and pointed it directly at me, and his face was fuming. "You're getting weaker. We have nothing, and you're getting worse."

"There's gotta be a few bags of crackers or something in here, Carl. You don't need to get like this-" I tried again.

"I just want to be able to feed you, okay? God damn it-!" Carl yelled again, and he kicked over a loose book at his feet. I watched it fly through the air and crash into the blue wall behind me, and I flinched at the noise.

"You know I don't have the energy to fight you," I spat at him, and I used all my might to sound furious. Although my body was fending on nothing but my desire for this boy, and I couldn't yell any louder than this. "I'm not going to coddle you or hand you gifts or kiss you to make you remember this. I'm here. I still am, aren't I? Even if you see me as the weak girl you can use as a pleasure toy; I'm also a survivor. A survivor who just barley made it because of you, and...here I am."